


Fade to Black

by sniperocker123



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Horror, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21846646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniperocker123/pseuds/sniperocker123
Summary: She's lethal and perfect for the job.  He's trained her to be nothing less.  And now, he is her job.
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan
Kudos: 2





	Fade to Black

Isabella Swan stepped out of her shiny, red car, smirk in place, when she saw that _Privé_ was in fact a dingy bar, nothing else. She’d known he wasn’t better off without her, that he’d be here blowing what little money he made on cheap liquor and the questionable thrills that the city’s whores provided.

Secretly, she wondered if he’d known this too.

And she’d prepared for this. She’d worn her swankiest top and skirt, made sure no one saw her getting out of her car, applied an extra dab of lipstick on her already glistening lips. Her smirk fell slowly as she sighed.

Sometimes she hated her job. But it paid well and the small dreams paid for the bigger ones.

But not today.

Today she loved her job and the perks it provided. She would gloat. She would conquer. And she would vanish.

Just like old times.

Entering the “bar” wasn’t an accomplishment. The bouncer was a friend. Undercover, just like her. He barely looked at her but let her pass as soon as he saw her. Even gave a small acknowledging nod as she passed by him.

She was still smiling as she stepped in.

Men turned, as they always did, gasping as they took in the beauty before them. She didn’t even spare them a glance as she walked by them towards the bar table. She gave her order—a grey goose martini, as dirty as possible—and the bartender nodded dumbly. She turned around, leaning on the table by her elbow and smiled when she found what she’d come here for. 

_He_ was there. Of course he was. It’s where he always was. Besides, her sources were the best at their job. 

And he was drinking. Nothing new there, either.

But what she wasn’t prepared for was where he was sitting.

Perched on a high stool on the stage with a guitar in one hand and a glass in the other, was her “assignment.” 

And her job had never looked so good. 

The bartender placed her drink beside her elbow, preparing to call out to her but she beat him to it. She turned slightly, removing a wad of cash from inside her bra and placing it on the table. She pushed it towards the bartender with one finger and smiled sweetly.

He palmed his cock under the table.

She turned back towards the stage, wrinkling her nose slightly. That was obvious. Really fucking obvious. Her expression turned to one of amusement when the man behind her actually moaned.

 _He_ on the other hand was completely oblivious. But when the band behind him began to play he chanced a glance at the one woman in the bar. The one who stood watching him with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

He almost smiled.

Edward Cullen was used to women who only wanted to fuck. He respected these type of women. Cherished them, even. He made them feel just as good as they did him. But he was also used to agents that pretended to be these women. Dangerous agents who hid their identity under the guise of being beautiful sirens.

After all, he used to train these women. He knew their ways. 

He knew them by the look in their eyes. But none of this mattered. He knew her.

But what Edward Cullen would never know was that Isabella Swan was no dangerous agent. 

She was lethal.

Edward’s smile was smug as he adjusted his microphone and finally began to sing.

His voice was rough, gravelly. He sang about women that loved and left. He sang about regrets. He sang about being to hell and back.

He sang about fading to black.

And then Isabella licked her lips as he played that damn guitar as if he were making love to it. The music was slow, lulling in its jazzy tones, a soothing lullaby to her ears. She pushed away from the bar table just as Edward set the guitar down and picked up his glass. Seeing her approach, he smiled and got up too, knowing exactly where she was headed.

They left the bar through the back exit. As she’d expected, it opened into a dark, deserted alley and she grinned as she realized that this was the exact same setting she’d wanted.

She walked up to the wall and turned, leaning against it. Edward leant against the wall opposite to her and she cocked her head.

“Long time no see, Edward Cullen,” she murmured.

Edward’s smile fell as he assessed her properly. The alleyway was dark and Edward wondered if she purposely steered him here. It had been long—almost five years—but she looked and sounded different. 

More confident. More sensual.

Ethereal.

“What did James do to you?” he asked, slowly, gauging her reaction at the name.

He wondered idly if she had a gun.

She grinned. “It doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”

“Ah,” Edward nodded. “Compromised?”

“Killed in the line of duty.” She snorted delicately. “At least, that’s what they told us. Don’t know the truth, though.”

But something about the way her mouth twisted indicated she knew. Edward felt a vague moment of panic, but brushed it aside. This was Isabella. She’d kill herself before she harmed a hair on his head.

“Why are you here?”

“To kill you.” 

The answer was delivered so sincerely, so serenely, that for a moment, Edward believed her. And then he laughed. 

This was _Isabella_.

Her grin grew wider. “What?”

“I trained you. I made you who you are.”

“Why should that stop me? You know far too much about an agent whose identity is supposed to be a secret. You should, by all means, be history.”

Edward stepped closer, her favorite Chanel No 5 flooding his senses. But this time there was something else mixed with it. Isabella smiled as he lifted his finger and grazed her cheekbone. 

His eyes flew open and he stumbled behind.

She didn’t have a gun. She didn’t need one.

Not when she was a vampire.

“How?” Edward choked.

“It’s what I always wanted, Edward. It’s why I’m here.” 

Isabella was a vampire. _His_ Isabella was a vampire. 

He needed to leave. Quickly. But Edward knew he was kidding himself. There would be no running. No screaming for help. And hopefully, no pain.

“I know too much,” Edward hedged. He was dying anyway. He’d go down small talking.

“Yes, well, that can change. You can change. You don’t need to die, Edward. Be like me. I’ll change you.”

He looked into her eyes. They were black. _Why hadn’t he seen them before he followed her out here?_ “Why would you do that?”

“You smell so good. Like sunshine and lilacs and regrets,” she murmured, putting her hands on his shoulder and leaning forward to kiss his neck. Her right hand ran over his pectorals from under his shirt. The exact place where her name was tattooed on his chest. “But I’d resist you. I’d make you feel good. So, so good. I’d bite you while we’re fucking. _Making love_ …” she corrected herself, with what he used to say. “I’d make you immortal just as you came,” she hissed, biting down on his ear lobe gently.

Edward groaned at her filthy words. It wasn’t like he was ever going to be a vampire, but the vision she painted was tantalizing. He could be with her forever. She’d be his. They’d roam the world.

“Yesss,”she whispered. “We’ll make it all ours. We’ll rule the world.” 

Edward chuckled roughly. “You can read minds?”

Isabella’s hands drifted to his face. “Parlor trick. I can do a lot more.”

“What if I say no?”

Isabella pulled back and smiled at him, beatifically. “Then I’ll change you against your will. I will not kill you.”

“So those are my choices then? Die when someone from the guard comes to kill me or…die from your hand.”

That seemed to anger her. “Do I look dead to you Edward Cullen?” She sighed softly. “Why won’t you give in?”  
“I hate them. I hate that life. I hate being their pawn. I hate what you’ve become.” Edward groaned as Bella lightly ran her hand over his zipper. “But by god, I can’t hate you. I don't what know to do,” he moaned.

“No God to save you anymore, my love.” Isabella said, smiling as he threw back his head and left his neck exposed. 

Edward closed his eyes as Isabella ran her teeth lightly over his exposed jugular, without waiting for his response. And then she bit down.

But here’s the thing that Isabella had forgotten about newborn vampires.

They were strong. Stronger than their sires. 

And they were death machines—for humans and vampires alike.

And they could hold a grudge.


End file.
